


Seven Minutes

by tomatopudding



Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [44]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Kissing, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Other, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), the nanny and the gardener
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: Prompt: Tentative kisses given in the dark.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420288
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Seven Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Find the the kisses prompt list here.

“Well,” Nanny Ashtoreth said, “now what?”

Brother Francis huffed, “Don’t look at me,  _ I’m _ not the one who spends more time with him.”

“You can’t blame me for this,” protested Ashtoreth, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest simply because there wasn’t enough space, “I didn’t decide to send the boy to a  _ bloody _ American summer camp.”

While the two months free of Warlock had been rather nice--they had been been able to spend much more time together, even returning to London for long periods of time while the Dowlings didn’t require their services--he was now back and more excitable than usual. The ten-year-old had complained every moment between finding out he was going to summer camp and the actual leaving, but had returned raving about the whole experience. For a boy who was usually so sedate and occasionally sullen, it was a 180 degree turn-around. Both the nanny and the gardener agreed, however, that they could have done without the sudden influx of childish American games. Particularly the one they had now found themselves involved in. Seven minutes in heaven. Nanny Ashtoreth objected to the name on principle. Brother Francis objected to the use of heaven in what amounted underage debauchery. And it seemed that Warlock had decided that his nanny and the gardener were madly in love and simply needed a little push to finally admit their feelings. The beings in question greatly disagreed. Outwardly, in any case.

And so they found themselves together in a dark, locked closet. Of course, either of them could easily get them out of the situation with a simple snap of their fingers. Unfortunately their young ward was right on the other side of the door, giggling madly to himself, and he would certainly notice such a miracle. Which meant that they were stuck together with barely enough room to move. Ashtoreth had a coat hanger digging into the back of her neck. Francis was standing unevenly due to an excess of boots being underfoot. To be frank, it was uncomfortable in more ways than one. Especially for Ashtoreth whose eyes allowed her to see in the dark much more easily than her companion and found herself unable to resist staring moonily at him in the way she wished to do always. For all the years they’d known each other he could read her expressions even through the dark glasses and so she wouldn’t dare to allow her feelings to show so openly except in a situation like this.

“Have you ever?,” Ashtoreth blurt out without meaning to, “Kissed, I mean. Anyone.”

“Ah, well, I,” Francis stammered, his cheeks heating.

Ashtoreth’s eyes widened, “You have! Cheeky bugger!”

“Oh,  _ really _ ,” said Francis, “It can’t possibly be that much of a shock. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of experiences as well.”

It was Ashtoreth’s turn to blush, not that Francis could see it but obviously the silence spoke volumes.

“My dear,” Francis began.

“Don’t,” Crowley cut him off, not having the energy to keep up the Ashtoreth facade any longer, “Just...never felt the need, I suppose.”

A long moment passed.

“We could,” Francis--no he had dropped the accent and affectations of Francis completely too and was simply Aziraphale, “if you’d like.”

He sounded unsure, but also mildly hopeful.

“You’d want to...with me?” Crowley asked, voice hushed. This wasn’t something he had ever prepared himself for and he felt completely out of his depth.

Aziraphale was already starting to lean closer. Not that there was far to go, his breath was already ghosting over Crowley’s lips. Tentatively, Crowley closed the final distance, sparing a tiny demonic miracle to make sure that his lipstick wouldn’t transfer. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing Aziraphale’s lips smeared dark purple, it would break him. Aziraphale hummed as they parted, the fingers of one hand wrapped around Crowley’s bony wrist, grounding him.

“Again, please,” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale complied.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've seen at least one fic with Warlock locking Nanny and the Gardener in a closet. I wish I remembered what it was so I could credit them for the idea.


End file.
